


Kings and Queens

by LoadsofPancakes (LoadsofCustardCreams)



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: AU, F/M, Once AU, Once Upon A Time AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 15:10:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16894926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoadsofCustardCreams/pseuds/LoadsofPancakes
Summary: Emma Swan is struggling as an actress. All seems lost until she manages to swing a spot on Kings and Queens, the most popular Medieval TV Show of all time. But here's the catch: Emma hates being in love, and acting it is proving more tricky than she first thought. Her whole world is about to change, especially working alongside her new and mysterious co-star Killian Jones.





	Kings and Queens

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, thanks for reading. This is a repost from FF.net! So if you've read it before, I didn't steal it. It's me, guys. Don't worry.

The sun is bright. It streams through the window and bounces off the crystal light, casting a kaleidoscope of colours around the room. Emma Swan sits at her computer, fanning herself with an old magazine. The August heat is unbearable, even though she’s opened every window in her house. The gentle breeze wafting through the rooms does nothing to soothe her burning skin.

She watches rainbows grow and shrink as the crystal lampshade spins in the breeze. The patterns are pretty against her wooden floor, but she’s not really appreciating them as much as she normally would. Instead, she sits with her chin resting on the heel of her hand, eyes glazed over as the other hand fans mechanically.

“Mom,” comes a rough voice from the sofa. When she doesn’t answer, it comes again. “ _Mom.”_

“Huh?” Emma asks, blinking out her daze.

“Earth to Mom.”

Slowly, everything in the room comes back into focus. She casts her gaze over to the owner of the voice. Henry sits on the sofa, his legs pulled up around him. A book is draped over the arm of the chair, and Emma can _just_ make out what it is. Fairytales. Go figure.

“I said, have you found anything yet?” he asks, folding over the corner of his page.

“Nope,” she answers with a sigh.

He gives her a confident smile. “You will. I believe in you.”

“I sure hope you’re right, kid.”

The thing is, Emma’s been on the job hunt for _months_ now and nothing’s come up. But it’s not from lack of trying. Day in, day out, she scrolls through endless audition websites, hoping she’ll find one that suits her. She applies for at least five a day, but is always met with a snotty letter, something along the lines of, “We are sincerely sorry and we wish you luck with future projects.” Well, _screw them._ She has called countless agencies, producers, shows and movies but nothing has ever come out of it. She always knew getting into the acting business was going to be tough (hell, every actor and actress has said at one point they weren’t sure they were going to make it) but she didn’t anticipate it being _this_ tough.

A few years ago she managed to get a role on one of those soaps operas. She only had fifteen minutes of screentime, but she was paid well enough for it. After that, she convinced herself she’d made it. Any role was within her grasp.

How mistaken she was.

Before Henry, she worked a bar job. The hours were sparse, but it paid the bills. She got by. After Henry came back into her life, she knew she’d have to step up her game, and so she worked two bar jobs and a shop on Saturday. That was until a few weeks ago, when one bar and the shop told her they had too much staff, and she had to go. Now, Emma’s struggling to put food on the table, let alone pay the bills. She _needs_ another job and fast. She needs an acting job. One that pays heap loads of money.

“Mom, you’re worrying.”

Emma looks over to see Henry giving her one of _those_ looks. She sighs. “I’ll be fine.” The truth is, she’s wondering how she can make thirty dollars stretch the rest of the week.

She’d ask Regina for money, but she _can’t._ She’s too proud for that. Plus, she’s not even sure Regina would lend her the money. After all, they haven’t always seen eye-to-eye. It’s only recently they’ve started getting on, and it’s more to do with their mutual love of Henry than anything.

“Mom, your phone’s vibrating.”

Emma gives a start. Her phone is humming against the table, loud and clear. She was so wrapped up in her thoughts, she hadn’t noticed it.

When she checks the caller ID, her eyes widen. Quickly, she brings it up to her ear, biting her lip. “ _David_?”

“That’s right, it’s me!” he announces. “How’re you?”

“I’m… shocked to tell you the truth.” She hasn’t heard from him in weeks. No, not weeks. _Months_.

“I know, I know.”

Suddenly, she feels very hot, almost feverish. “Where the _hell_ have you been?”

“Researching,” he tells her. She can’t make out whether his voice is sincere or not. “And trust me, you’re gonna _love_ what I’ve found.”

David’s been her agent for years. He comes and goes, as he has a bunch of other clients he needs to take care of. Some are even close to fame. Take Ruby, for one. With a face and legs like hers, she’s onto bigger and better things.

Emma’s eyes flash over to Henry, who looks back with a curious expression. To David, she says, “Okay. I’ll bite.”

“I’ve found you an audition.”

Silence envelopes the line as she lets this sink in. “Hang on. _What_?” He hasn’t found her an audition in about a year. Instead, he’s been giving her endless excuses as to why not. She wonders whether he’s been looking at all.

“And let me tell you, it’s going to be big.”

She sits up straight, hungry for more. “Big? What? What’s the audition?”

“Ever heard of _The Vampire Diaries?_ ”

“Yeah…?” Her heart picks up, beating like a bird’s wings. _The Vampire Diaries is_ big. She’s never seen it herself, but people talk about it. But he hasn’t… he can’t have…"

“Well, it’s not that.”

Her heart sinks. “Okay?”

“Ever heard of _Merlin_?”

She feels that familiar adrenaline. “Yeah?”

“It’s not that either.”

“ _Seriously_?”

What’s his deal? At times like these, Emma debates on getting a new agent, a _better_ agent, who’ll actually manage to swing her a few auditions. Maybe she’ll even get an agent who tells her how she needs to adapt for a role, instead of telling her she won’t suit any auditions he’s found.

“It’s- wait for it…”

“David. Just tell me.” She’s sick of waiting around, and sick of disappointment.

“It’s…” He takes a breath long enough for Emma to roll her eyes. “ _Kings and Queens_.”

A silence. She sits, unable to believe it. Her face pales. She’s heard of Kings and Queens. _Everyone’s_ heard of _Kings and Queens_. Everyone at the bar talks about it, but Emma usually just blocks them out. She’s never seen it, even though it’s Henry’s favourite show.

Henry.

He’s watching her intently, his book abandoned. He can’t have worked out what show her audition is for, otherwise he’d have a very different reaction. She’s not sure what his reaction would be, but she knows it would make her smile.

“...Emma?”

“ _Seriously?”_ she manages to choke out.

“Seriously.” She can practically _hear_ his grin.

Suddenly, she feels all shaky, with shock or longing, she does not know. It takes her a moment to calm herself, but when when she does, there’s a slight tremor to her voice.

“Be real, David. I am _never_ going to get that.”

“As my wife would say, we must always have hope.” There's a pause, slightly nervous. “So, what do you say? Want to give it a shot?”

Once again, she’s drawn to Henry. There’s an optimistic shine in those young eyes. She thinks about all the things she could give him if this works out. Maybe even that expensive camera he’s wanted for the past year. She sighs, trying to seem somewhat casual.

“Sure. Why not?”

“Brilliant. I've emailed you the script.”

“... Already?” She leans forward in her chair. “You sneaky bastard.”

“You’ll thank me for it later. The script’s  _amazing_ .” He pauses, and Emma assumes he’s grinning. _Again._ “Anyway, I’ve got to go. Mary Margaret and I have a date night. Send me a text and let me know what you think, yeah?”

“Sure thing.” She’s already logging onto her email. “Speak to you later, David.”

“Alright, bye.”

There’s a beep as the line disconnects. She slowly places her phone back down beside her, and then turns to Henry. He watches her with raised eyebrows. Emma’s lost for words. She opens her mouth and closes it, shaking her head. Did that really just happen? Has she really got an audition for one of the top TV shows in the whole _world_?

“Mom…?” Henry asks, voice unsure.

“It’s _Kings and Queens_ ,” she says, weakly.

“What?”

“I have an audition for _Kings and Queens._ ”

They both sit there, limp and ghost white, mirror images of each other. His eyebrows knit together, as the news sinks in. Then, his face lights up into the widest smile she has ever seen.

“You’re _kidding?”_

All she can do is shake her head.

Within moments, he’s closing the distance between them. He wraps his arms around her, in the tightest hug she’s ever received. She hugs him back. Everything is a whirl of hair against hair and cheeks against cheeks, and breathless excitement. When they pull back, they are both smiling.

“Mom, that’s amazing.”

“Would you mind staying at Regina’s tonight?” she asks, with a smile. “I have a script to learn.”

* * *

Usually getting through a script can take some time, but Emma manages to read through it in a night, unable to put it down for even a second. She reads it while eating, while running a bath, and even while she’s making endless amounts of coffee to keep her awake so she can re-read it. She was not expecting it to be so good. David was right. She always knew the show was set way back in the past, in a made up land of kings and queens and servants, but she didn’t really have a clue about anything else. After reading the script, she wishes she watched it with Henry when it was on television.

In the email, David mentioned who he secured the audition for: Rose. From what she’s worked out, Rose doesn’t have much luck. Her village has been burnt to the ground by a ruthless ruler. Most of her friends and family are dead. The only family she has is her mother, who is dragged to court (with Rose) to be a healer. Despite the world’s cruelty, Rose seems to be a strong, independent woman. Like Emma herself, she’s not allowed her misfortunes to affect who she is.

Emma’s already intrigued. Fairytale-ish things have always interested her from when she was little, but as she got older she realised fairytales weren’t real. There aren’t any fairy godmothers or magic to protect people. She learned that the hard way.

A fleeting smile crosses her face as she texts David.

**It’s good. I like it. Thank you :)**

He replies back within a few minutes.

**Check ur email ;)**

She rushes to her computer. He’s sent her all the audition information, including times and dates. The audition is only a week away. That should give her enough time to learn some lines and perfect her performance.

And she has a good feeling, she really does. There’s something in her gut, telling her everything is going to be alright. She hopes to God her instincts are correct.

* * *

**One Week Later**

* * *

 

 As far as audition days go, this has been the worst one so far. First, she woke up late and barely had time for a shower, let alone breakfast. She didn’t even bother to do her usual ‘shove toast in her mouth and leave’ ritual. Now Emma sits in her yellow bug, close to tears. She’s turning the ignition over and over, but the car just growls and dies. Her palm smacks hard against the dashboard. Of course, the abuse doesn't help, but neither do kind words and prayers. She hopes this is only temporary. God knows she can’t afford repairs at the moment.

To her utter dismay, she’s forced to abandon her usually trusty machine. She manages to catch a bus, though barely. She forks out a hell of a lot of money to cover the extortionate expenses. More money than she can afford for a smelly, rusty ride. By the time the bus gets to her stop, she’s already ten minutes late. She runs to the building. It’s so tall, towering over her as she catches her breath. Half of it is lost in maze of scaffolding and wooden planks. They must be renovating. She checks her watch, puffing out air. Fifteen minutes late. She has to get a move on _now._ There’s a line at the reception, snaking around the corridor. Emma pushes past all manners of people and marches to the front of the queue, ignoring everyone’s sudden cries of outrage.

“Where’s room six eight three?” she demands to a plump woman at the desk, who’s all hot and bothered, greying hair sticking to a shiny forehead.

“Were you next in line?”

Emma grits her teeth. “Just tell me where the room is.”

Something in Emma’s voice must intimidate her, because the woman is quick is answer. “Floor six. On the left.”

“Thank you.”

The room is up five flights of stairs and the lift is out of order. Emma curses every God and every religion as she trudges up them, clutching the stitch in her side. By the time she reaches the door, her hair resembles a haystack.

She fixes it as best as she can, combing and flattening it with her fingers. When she’s ready, she sucks in a deep breath and knocks on the door. There’s a pause. She waits. And then: “Come in!”

She enters.

The room is only small, and very white. A long table is positioned in front of her, leaving enough space for the auditionees to act. Along the table sits five people, more than Emma is used to. They all study her with narrowed eyes, apart from the woman in the middle, who wears a warm smile. A camera blinks at her from behind the table. She swallows a lump in her throat and takes a few steps forward.

“Hi there,” the woman with the warm smile greets. Emma notes the thick, Australian accent. “What’s your name?”

“Uh, Emma. Emma Swan,” she says. “Sorry I’m late. I had car troubles. I had to get the bus.”

The woman’s smile remains unfaltering. “It’s okay. It happens to the best of us.”

Emma’s not quite sure she can trust this. Being late is bad enough to cost the actor the audition. She’s going to have to do one hell of a performance to make up for.

“I’m Belle,” she continues. “And I’m head writer and one of the producers. Have you prepared an audition for today?”

“Yeah.” What idiot wouldn’t? “One minute.” She fumbles awkwardly around in her bag for the script and pulls it out. Her hands are shaking, but she doesn’t drop it as she flicks through pages. At last, she finds what she wants. “So I really like all the extracts you asked me to pick from, but I thought an extract from scene eight. Is that okay?”

“That’s fine,” Belle says. Another warming smile. “Whenever you’re ready, Emma.”

Face burning under all the eyes on her, Emma places the script on the table, closed. Another way to make sure an audition goes badly is to not learn the script off by heart. She was taught that in drama school. Belle is busy flicking through her own script. Squiggles in every colour pen litter the pages. When she finds the scene, she looks up at Emma and offers her another smile.

Emma closes her eyes for a moment to get into character. When she opens her eyes again, she’s Rose. Her back straightens, her shoulders are relaxed. Not tense, like they were five minutes ago. She clasps her hands in front of her, keeping her head down in a way that she hopes represents the status of the character.

Belle starts reading as another character; another servant. “You don’t like it here?” she asks.

Emma keeps her head down, her shoulders lifting and then falling in a sigh. “I like it here.”

“That doesn’t sound like someone who does...”

“I’ll have to get used to it.” Her eyes raise to Belle’s.

“But your home-”

“My home was destroyed,” she says softly. She lowers her eyes again. “There’s nothing to go back to. Not now.”

The scene goes on much like that. It ends with a friendship formed between Rose and the other servant, Toby. When Emma finishes, she’s proud of herself. It’s a hard character to portray, but she thinks she’s done alright, especially when Belle gives her another one of those smiles and says, “That was beautifully acted.”

She’s just starting to relax a little, when there’s another voice Emma doesn’t recognise. “I believe you mumbled over your words, Miss Swan.”

Her head snaps over to him. He’s a small, thin man, with chin-length, greying hair. He sits next to Belle, completely composed. There’s something intimidating in his eyes, but Emma looks right in them. Especially since she knows she _didn’t_ mumble over her words.

“Excuse me?” she says. There’s a voice screaming inside her head, telling her to shut up _now_.

“I think you heard me perfectly well.” He speaks through a strange sort of grimace.

Usually, Emma wouldn’t say anything. She would keep her mouth shut, apologise, and politely leave the room. But it’s the way he’s sitting, like he owns the damn place, and how he raises his eyebrows as a challenge she’s all too willing to accept.

“Sorry, but I think you’re wrong,” she tells him, not sorry at all.

“Really, Miss Swan,” he says through his teeth.

She looks over at Belle, who had been so kind to her a moment ago. She remains silent, just like everyone else. Silent and watching. Emma casts her eyes over all the people in the room and her blood boils.

“Alright, fine. Whatever.” She turns on her heel and storms out the room.

Cold air and regret hit her as soon as she’s in the corridor. She’s blown it. No TV show wants to work with a rude actress, especially if they’re a main character. Still, she can’t help but feel it was completely _unfair._ She’s perfected that audition a million times over. He could have picked on her mannerisms, or her facial expressions, things she _knows_ she needs to work on. Not her line delivery. Not the thing she’s good at. But maybe she isn’t right for the part. She leans on the wall outside the room, her head falling against it. She could go back in and apologise? But something keeps her rooted to the spot. She doesn’t want to face that man again, or any of them really.

“You okay there, love?”

Emma’s eyes snap open at the voice. A man stands in front of her, clad in a ridiculous amount of leather. He’s watching her with crossed arms and a twinkle in his eye. He’s tall. Thick black hair is parted at the side. There’s a dusting of stubble over his cheeks. He looks… familiar. She’s more than sure she’s seen him before, but she can’t pinpoint where. Normally Emma is good with faces.

“I’m fine,” she says, standing up straight. She takes a step away from the wall.

He leans forward, arms still folded. “I take it you just had an audition. And it didn’t go well.” He has an English accent. What’s up with people and accents today?

“Hey!” she snaps. “It went perfectly fine, actually.”

His eyebrows fly up to his forehead. She can’t help but think his face has so much character. He looks like the acting type. A part of her wonders who he’s auditioning for. She didn’t think they were bringing in any new male characters.

“Who did you audition for?” he asks.

She narrows her eyes, debating whether to tell him. She doesn’t really like to tell anyone anything, especially complete strangers, even if it’s something as petty as this. But he just waits patiently for her, watching her face with amused eyes.

“Rose,” she tells him after a moment.

“Oh.” His eyes light up. “Well it looks as if you might be my leading lady.”

Then it clicks where she’s seen him from. The TV show. She must have caught his face from the TV when Henry was watching it. He’s Alexander. _Alexander._ The main character.

“You’re Alexander.” She wonders whether she should be star struck, but she isn’t. If anything, she’s a little irritated he’s caught her after the audition she’s blown.

“Aye, that I am. Though I _do_ have a real name,” he says. There’s a certain confidence in his expression. He extends a hand, with a slight curl of his lips. “Killian Jones.”

She stares at his hand for a moment, arms crossed and hostile. Again, he just waits patiently. She figures she might as well humour him. After all, she might never see him again.

She thrusts her hand forward, with a mumble of, “Emma Swan.” Instead of shaking it like any normal person would, he takes her hand in his and brings it up to his lips. Without ever taking his eyes off hers, he kisses her hand. It’s slow and gentle. His lips barely brush her skin, but there’s still a slight pink tinge to her cheeks.

And there’s one thought going through her mind. He’s probably like this with everyone. An ultimate player. Emma knows to stay the hell away from players.

When he releases her hand, she snatches it back and folds her arms again. He seems unfazed, watching her with dark eyes.

“Anyway, I better go,” she says, a little coldly.

“I see,” he says, amused. Then, more seriously, “I hope I’ll be seeing you, Emma Swan.”

She’s taken back by that, but she makes sure her outsides don’t match her insides. With a casual shrug of her shoulders, she murmurs, “Yeah, well. Bye.”

She’s halfway down the corridor before she hears him call back, “Goodbye.”

She can still feel his eyes on her as she bolts through the double doors which lead to the staircase.

 


End file.
